Subtle as a 2x4 to the Head
by sir wilfrederick
Summary: Lance has a three-year-old daughter. Keith has a ten-month-old son. Pidge plays wingman. Major fluff ensues. OR: Lance and Keith are both single dads and Pidge just wants her friends to be happy.
1. Chapter 1

"_Come on_," Pidge whined, draping herself over the couch. "It's been _forever_ since we went out! And we need to celebrate you finally being done with all this legal bullsh_hh_—"

Lance shot her a glare over his daughter's head. The two were sitting on the floor, trying to build "the tallestest block tower _ever_, papa!" Estella was still pretty small for a three-year-old, no thanks to fucking _Nyma_. His poor baby...

"Stop thinking about her," Pidge ordered, just as scarily aware of his thoughts as always. "It's done with, and you don't have to worry about her anymore."

"I know..." Lance handed Estella another block to place on their tower. It was almost too tall for her and Lance had to steady her before she overbalanced on her tiptoes. "It's just kinda hard to stop. It's been my constant worry for the last two years, yanno? _**Good job, Estella**__!_" he added in Spanish.

Estella beamed at him and he melted into a puddle right then and there.

"That's why we need to go out! Oof!"

Lance snickered as he watched his three-year-old tackle her tía Pidge and demanded she come play, too. But it was almost her bedtime and she still needed a bath before she got too tired and threw a tantrum. Lance smirked at Pidge. "Maybe if you ask really nicely, tía Pidge will give you a bath."

"_Traitor_."

"Tía Pid!" Estella cried, bouncing on her back. "_Peez_ gimme a bath?"

"Give her a bath and I might think about going out."

Pidge had a squealing toddler under her arm without hesitation. "Let's go, munchkin!"

"'m not a munchkin!" Estella's tiny legs kicked out at the injustice.

"You're shorter than me, so that makes you a munchkin."

"_Nooooo!"_

Let it be noted that Estella got her dramatics from him. Lance rolled his eyes fondly at the two and swept the blocks back into their bin. He still needed to clean up from dinner, take out the trash, and take a shower himself before he could go to bed. Thank God Pidge was there to give Estella a bath so he could make it to bed _somewhat_ on time.

That was the only downside to being a single parent. He had to do _everything_ by himself, _plus_ take care of a rambunctious three-year-old. His family and friends were saints and came over frequently enough that he didn't feel too burnt out, but it still made him frazzled.

The whole Nyma thing didn't help, either.

Lance scowled as he scrubbed at a plate. _Fucking Nyma_. They had been married for nearly five years before the divorce finally went through just last week. They'd gotten married right after college and had bought a house together and had Estella two years later. Things were supposed to be perfect. Nyma had wanted to be a part-time stay-at-home mom, part-time worker while Lance worked his way up at Altea's most prestigious spa. The sponge oozed soap spuds as he remembered coming home one day to a thirteen-month-old Estella crying in the closet Nyma had stuffed her in while she was passed out on some concoction of drugs, bruises forming on the baby's cheek and arms. The rush to the hospital, the accusations, the police reports that followed. The custody battle while juggling the divorce and taking care of an infant. His mama had been a godsend and had moved into the guest bedroom to take care of Estella while he figured everything else out, and had only just moved back to her own home for good a couple of months ago when Estella started preschool.

It was still hard, though. He wanted to raise his kid with someone, wanted to share her with someone who was just as invested in her wellbeing as he was. Don't get him wrong—his family and friends were _amazing_ with Estella and loved her so much, but...

They weren't always around.

He wanted someone to come home to, someone to cuddle with and kiss and love and grow old with. Nyma should have been that, and he still didn't understand how he hadn't seen her bullshit before, how he had missed the neglect and drugs and lies.

It wouldn't be bad to have someone to split the mortgage with, either, to be honest. He had offered to let Pidge stay with him for cheap, but she was always up at odd hours of the night and her tech was too small and dangerous for wandering tiny hands. Neither of them wanted Estella to accidentally hurt herself if she got into Pidge's room or Pidge accidentally left something out. Unfortunately, Hunk and Shay already had their own home and were thinking of starting their own family, otherwise he would have offered the guest bedroom to them. And he didn't trust anyone else with his precious daughter and hated the idea of a stranger living with them.

"Hey," called a soft voice from the edge of the kitchen. "Estella's all clean. Teeth brushed and everything. She just wants you to read her a story."

Lance's shoulders dropped. He'd been so busy thinking of the past that he had hardly gotten through the dishes. One whole plate was clean. _Shit_. And he still had to clean the kitchen and do the trash and sort his grocery list for tomorrow and—

"Hey." A small hand touched his arm. It was only then he noticed he was strangling his sponge. "What's up?"

"I still have so much to do—"

"Whatcha want me to do?" Pidge asked before he could spiral further. "I can get started on it so it's less for you to do later."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering."

His friends were just too damn kind to him sometimes. He brushed away his tears with the back of his wrist, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes burned and he tried to will his tears away. "Dishes. Trash. Grocery list." His words were too stilted, he knew, but it was hard to talk around the lump in his throat. It was so _stupid_, too. There was no need for him to get so emotional! He had been dealing with it for two years. Two years! He should have been—

"Hey, calm down, buddy." Pidge wasn't the most comforting person, but her bluntness was welcomed anyway. "No need to get all worked up. It's just dishes and trash."

Lance choked out a watery chuckle.

"Now wipe your face off. You're leaking everywhere." Pidge threw a towel at his face, and he didn't expect anything less from her.

Quickly, he cleaned himself up before going to Estella's room. He couldn't worry her. She'd already had such a hard life so far and she didn't need to see his bullshit. He paused in her doorway to watch her as she snuggled between all her stuffed animals everyone had gifted her throughout the years. She had her book ready and everything. It was the one about Stellaluna, the bat. She loved it because the bat's name was almost like her name, and Lance read it to her the most out of every book they had.

"Hey, cariño," he said as he stepped into the room. "Stellaluna again?"

"Yes, peez!"

Her tiny bed was too small for him to sit on, so he sat on the floor and propped himself on the edge of her bed. He angled the book towards her so she could see the pictures, yellow bear about as big as she was, curtesy of Hunk, in her arms.

Lance probably had the story memorized, but he kept his eyes on the book instead of her. He didn't want her to see that he had been crying. But she was good and kept her attention locked on the pages, half hidden behind her bear. Her eyes drooped near the end. Lance closed the book quietly and set it back on her shelf next to the bed. He dropped a kiss to her forehead and pulled up the blankets to tuck her in.

"Night, baby-girl."

"Night, papa," she replied sleepily. "Love you."

"I love you, too."

Pidge was waiting in the family room for him, two heaping bowls of ice cream on the coffee table. It was far enough away that Estella wouldn't be attracted by their voices and come out to see what she was missing. "You wanna talk about it?" she asked as he settled on the couch, slouched against one of the arms. She was quick to snuggle against his side.

She may have been prickly about touch at the best of times, but she always allowed him to cuddle when he was upset.

"It's just..." He stirred his ice cream a bit and took a bite to gather his thoughts. "It's over, you know? And... I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now."

"Come celebrate," was Pidge's automatic response. "You need a break. You need a night out to relieve some stress." She gave him a sly look out of the corner of her eye. That look never boded well for him. "You need to get _laid_."

"Pidge!"

"It's _true_."

"Doesn't mean you have to _say_ it," he grumbled into his ice cream, jostling her purposefully in retribution. "I don't even know if I remember how to flirt. And I have Estella to think about—"

She knocked her head against his shoulder. "It's just a one night stand. Go to their place."

"But I kind of want, like, an actual date."

Shit.

_Shit._

He didn't mean to say that out loud. Not to Pidge, of all people. She was going to make so much fun of him—

But she wasn't. When he finally looked down at her, she looked thoughtful. Pensive, even. Almost scheming.

"What are you planning?"

"Hmm? Me?" she asked innocently as she pulled out her phone and typed a quick message.

"Who are you texting."

She hummed as she put away her phone without letting him see. "Just Hunk to tell him you're coming on Friday."

"I didn't agree!"

She pulled out her phone again and typed quickly. Lance was only just quick enough to see that she was texting his mama. "Hey!"

Before he could stop her, she sent the message. Not even thirty seconds later his phone lit up with a text from his mama. Lance glared at Pidge as he picked it up. She grinned innocently at him and took a large bite of her ice cream.

_Of course I'll watch Estella!_ read the text. _She can have a slumber party with us!_

Before he could reply, she sent him another message. _Don't make me kidnap my own granddaughter so you can go celebrate_

And then another: _You're too stressed. You need this!_

"I hate you."

"You love me and you know it."

"Unfortunately."

"Friday. Six p.m. We'll go to dinner wherever you want and then take you for drinks at the Castle."

"You know I don't get off until six."

"So come right after work," she snarked back with a roll of her eyes and a pointed bite of ice cream.

"_Fine."_

And Pidge even helped him organize his grocery list so he could take a shower and be in bed before ten. Maybe he wouldn't be too mad at her for making him socialize, he thought as he set his alarm for the next morning. It didn't take him long to fall asleep.

* * *

"You need a break, Keith."

Keith tried his hardest not to give his brother a _look_. "I have a ten-month-old. I can't just 'take a break.'"

"Have mom and dad watch him." Shiro seemed unconcerned. "But you need a break. And to celebrate! Friday night would be perfect! The adoption is all legit, you have sole custody—"

"Only because Lotor's family is fucking insane," Keith grumbled into the neck of his hoodie. They were resting on the couch after finally getting Jaxton to lay down for bed. The kid would be awake in a few hours for a midnight snack before sleeping for the rest of the night, but Keith knew, though, that if he went to bed now he would just be more exhausted later.

The hurt was still fresh, thinking about his twin sister. His gut twisted every time the bastard's name was mentioned. Keith wanted to rip Lotor apart for murdering his sister, but Jaxton needed him so much more than Keith needed to get revenge. Acxa had named him the kid's guardian, had written up papers and everything for it because she knew her ex-boyfriend would find her and probably kill her for leaving. Police had done nothing, even though she had filed report after report of his abuse. Lotor's family had too much money, their names were too well known, even though most of them were in prison for some reason or another.

And now his sister was dead because of it.

"Hey." Shiro slapped his prosthetic arm against Keith's chest, winding him. "Stop. I know it hurts, I get it. But there's nothing more you can do about it besides move on and live your life."

Keith stood, fists clenched and seething. Blinding hot rage surged through him. How _dare_ Shiro try to tell him not to grieve. "My _twin sister_ is _dead_, Shiro. _Excuse_ me for being _a little upset_ about it."

"That's not what I meant—"

Keith stomped away before Shiro could say anything else. He needed to get away before he punched the asshole right in the face. The bathroom door didn't slam, just in case it woke Jaxton. But he slid down the door and hugged his knees tight, hiding his face and pressing his eyes to his knees to keep the tears from falling. It was no use; his jeans were drenched in seconds.

A light knock tapped above his head. "Keith?"

"Fuck off."

"I'm sorry," Shiro said quietly. "I know it hurts. I'm hurting, too. She was my sister, too."

"Adopted sister."

"Still my sister."

Keith's breath hitched. "I knew her my whole life. And now she's—"

"I know." It sounded like Shiro had settled on the floor just opposite the door. "I know. And it hurts. But you can't keep yourself holed up like this. You need to get out and live. For _her_. You can't just go to work and come home and take care of Jaxton. You need to socialize with someone other than your family."

"I don't want to."

Shiro didn't respond. Maybe he would shut up and leave him alone to grieve in peace.

Thing was, though, he was exhausted. Even though mom and dad and Shiro and Adam helped the best they could, it was still hard taking care of a baby by himself. They were in a tiny, cramped apartment since he couldn't really afford a house at the moment. Maybe in a few years he could, but at the moment he needed to save up for that. Jaxton was a happy baby, at least, and didn't mind that he didn't have very many toys or that they didn't have a big house for him to run around in, or a back yard to play in. Keith's job at the cemetery paid well, sure, but Jaxton ate up a lot of that money.

Not that he didn't love his kid, but...

He hadn't really ever planned on having kids to begin with. When Acxa had come to him and crashed at his place after escaping Lotor and putting a restraining order against him, she had brought up her concerns that he might find her and try to hurt her. She had asked him to be Jaxton's guardian if anything happened to her, and he had naively agreed because he thought the justice system would have kept Lotor away from her. He hadn't even asked _why him_ when there was mom and dad and Shiro and Adam to choose from, even though they weren't blood related.

He loved Jaxton to pieces. The kid looked enough like him that people thought he was Keith's, anyway. And it helped that his family was willing to help out.

But he was also lonely. He wanted someone to be there all the time, he wanted Jaxton to have two parents, instead of just him. He was too fucked up to raise a kid by himself. He was gonna screw the kid over—he just knew it.

But he also wasn't quite ready to date yet, either.

He knew the stigma of being a single parent so young. He had tried a few dates, but the guys had always ghosted him after hearing about his kid. He _knew_ that most men wouldn't give him a second chance the second he brought up Jaxton. Adding in all the bullshit drama, too?

He was never going to find a husband, let alone a boyfriend.

Keith sighed and wiped at his eyes. He stood so he could rinse his face off a little to try to get rid of the evidence of his crying. Shiro would see right through it, but hopefully he wouldn't say anything.

Shiro was sitting against the wall when Keith opened the door.

"Fine," Keith grumbled. "We'll get drinks Friday night, and you're buying me dinner, too. You're paying for everything and you're asking mom to watch Jaxton overnight."

Even though the Shiroganes had adopted him and Acxa a few years after their dad had died, they had never treated them like they were adopted. Shiro liked to joke that mom liked them more than Shiro, even, but their parents just said that they didn't pick favorites and to shut up, Takashi, have another cookie, Keith, Acxa. But Keith was still sometimes afraid that they didn't actually love him as much as they seemed to claim. He felt like too much of a burden, sometimes, and hated asking for help. Mom and dad had offered to watch Jaxton, though, instead of spending an insane amount of money on daycare so he could save up for his house. They never treated Jaxton like a burden, even though Keith couldn't pay them very much to watch over him during the week. They were older and were retired and claimed that watching the baby kept them youthful and spry, dad would joke over his crossword puzzle.

Shiro asking for them to watch Jaxton outside of the expected hours? They would do it in a heartbeat, especially if Shiro told them it was so Keith could relax.

Shiro beamed up at him. "Great! Mind if Adam comes along?"

"He's your husband," Keith replied, confused. Why wouldn't Adam come along? The two were practically surgically attached. It was really annoying, mostly because Keith had a hard time biting down his jealousy at his brother's relationship when they got too lovey-dovey in front of him.

Rolling his eyes, Shiro stood and clapped a hand to his shoulder. "I'll see if Pidge can come, too? And whoever else you want."

"Sure," he replied with a shrug. "The more the merrier, I guess."

"Maybe we can get you laid, too," Shiro mumbled under his breath.

"_Out_."

* * *

Lance settled across from Alfor at their customary booth at Sal's Diner. They usually met there once a week on Wednesdays for dinner unless otherwise needed to settle all the legal battles. They had known each other for years—almost two decades by then—since Lance had been in Allura's class since elementary school. They had become quick friends and Lance had been the very first to be offered a job at the spa Allura had opened up. They were close enough friends that Alfor had offered to be Lance's lawyer pro bono for the whole Nyma mess.

"So," said Alfor in his beautiful British accent. Lance had been a little bit in love with him and the accent when he was younger and figuring out his sexuality. Now, though, it only affected him minimally. Alfor's smile was gentle and contagious as he continued, "You're finally free."

"Thank you, Alfor. Really." Lance grinned back at him and sat back, closing his eyes. "I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for you." He took a moment to just breathe, relaxing as much as he could. It had been a long day at work and he was glad to be off his feet. "Not sure what I'm going to do with my Wednesday nights now, to be honest," he joked.

Alfor chuckled at him. "I'm sure Estella would be ecstatic to have you."

"Too true," Lance replied with a laugh.

Their food arrived shortly—the staff by then knew their usual orders and put it in as soon as they saw one of them arrive on Wednesday nights. They ate in silence for a moment, just enjoying the other's company.

But Lance couldn't help but fidget. What _was_ he supposed to do now? He voiced his concern quietly to Alfor, adding, "It's just so—final, yanno? We've been fighting this so hard and—and I don't know what to do, now."

Alfor set down his utensils and leaned forward to take Lance's fidgeting hands in his own. "Now you get to be happy and don't have to worry anymore. And if Nyma or any of her family or friends try to contact you, you let me know and I'll take care of it. No one is allowed to intrude on your happiness, Lance. It's unfortunate that we couldn't get her a longer sentence, but she no longer has any claim or right to your child and that's enough."

A shaky breath left Lance. "I know." Alfor's larger hands squeezed his comfortingly as he tried to piece together his thoughts. "I just want Estella to be happy."

"She loves you, Lance," Alfor replied with that same gentle, understanding smile. "You're amazing with her and she couldn't ask for a better father."

His small laugh was weak and choked as tears pooled in his eyes. "Thanks, Alfor." But what he had said to Pidge last night nagged at him and he bit his lip, thinking. Alfor wouldn't judge him, would he? No, Alfor loved him like a son. He wouldn't judge Lance, no matter what stupidity came from him. He drew in another shaky breath and asked, "Is it too soon to want to date? Since the divorce was only settled last week, but..."

Alfor squeezed his hands again. "You take as much time as you need. If you find a date this weekend, it shouldn't stop you. You and Nyma have been separated for two years, anyway. You're allowed to be happy, too, Lance." He squeezed his hands one more time before pulling away. "Don't forget that."

Lance wiped at his tears. It was hard, trying to remember that he was allowed to be happy, too. He had just been so angry and upset about the whole thing for so long that he was almost afraid he'd forgotten how not to be. But, no. Pidge was promising a night of fun, a night to start a new chapter of his life.

It was hard, but... He wanted to.

At the end of their meal, he slipped the bill closer to himself and put his credit card in before Alfor could snatch it away. "To thank you," he said. "It's not enough, but..."

"You being happy is all the payment I need," Alfor argued back, trying to take the little black book away from him.

"Stop being sappy and let me thank you."

Alfor rolled his eyes, but didn't argue.

"I'm gonna miss this," Lance confessed after their waitress, Marina, took his card.

"We don't have to stop," Alfor replied without hesitation. "Maybe we could still meet once a month?"

"First Wednesday of the month," Lance agreed. "Gotta keep up our Wednesday tradition."

Alfor laughed. "I'm sure they're going to miss us."

It was at that moment that several of the staff crowded around their booth. The other patrons paused to look curiously at their table—Sal's wasn't known for doing birthday singing from the staff or anything of the sort. Sal stood in front, a large, imposing man who had been quite gruff and standoffish when Lance and his friends had first started coming as teenagers, but had gentled and mellowed out throughout the years after Hunk had worked for him through college.

"Here," he grunted, shoving two small Styrofoam containers at them. "To celebrate."

Inside was one of Hunk's desserts that had helped with getting people in to Sal's Diner; a large slice of lemon-raspberry-chocolate cheesecake lay snug in the container. "Thanks, Sal," he said, beaming up at the man. "We're not gonna stop coming just because we're done with court."

"You better not," Sal muttered gruffly before turning away. "Congrats. Bring Estella in soon."

The others congratulated him as well, though much more joyfully. Marina slipped him the receipt and his card with a grin. "Boss is right. We need our Estella-fix sooner rather than later."

"You just wanna get her hopped up on sugar," Lance teased as he signed the receipt and added extra for her tip.

"That too," she laughed, taking the book. "See you guys later."

They shuffled out of the diner and stood on the sidewalk, watching the evening traffic slip by. It was a little chillier than Lance had anticipated so he zipped up his jacket and leaned against Alfor. It was twilight already, stars sparkling just on the eastern horizon as the western horizon slipped from pink to purple as the sun lowered.

"Thanks, man, really. I owe you."

"Just be good to Estella and we'll call it even." Alfor wrapped his arm around Lance for a quick hug. "I better go. Coran wanted me to bring him some dinner."

"Estella's probably waiting for me, too," Lance said with a laugh. "I'll see you later, Alfor."

Alfor dropped a kiss to his temple before pulling away. Lance's chest felt warm at the action, even as his heat drew away. "Love you, kiddo. Don't forget we're here for you."

"Thanks." He watched as Alfor walked away to slip into his bright red BMW at the far end of the parking lot. Lance rubbed at the ache in his chest, wondering how long until the emptiness there went away.

But, Estella was waiting for him. With a sigh, he trudged back to his Subaru to go pick her up from his mama's house.

* * *

September was still warm enough that he didn't need his jacket quite yet. His black jeans absorbed the heat of the sun and kept him comfortably warm as the light breeze ruffled the short sleeves of his shirt. It was red, at least, instead of the gross puke green color most of the others liked to wear with the cemetery's logo on the back and over his heart. He tugged on his black work gloves as he approached Romelle, his thick black work boots crunching the first of the fallen leaves.

"Hey," he muttered, stopping at her side. They stood far enough away from the gravesite that the gathered crowd couldn't hear them. The priest droned on from his Bible.

"Hey, Keith," Romelle replied jovially. She was always chipper, even though her job was so depressing.

"Family still wanting to do the first few shovels?"

"After the vault is on, yeah."

Keith grunted and turned just enough to see where Regris went. The boy was insanely tall, but was excellent at hiding when he wanted to. He was standing in between two trees, well hidden in the shade. Keith gave him a little wave and Regris immediately started moving towards them. "So," he said softly, tapping his fingers against his thigh. Shiro had said that anyone he wanted could come tomorrow night.

He liked Romelle. They worked closely enough, with being the only cemetery and funeral home in town, respectively. Plus, she had been a tremendous help when his sister had died. They had been friends before that, enough that they got each other little gifts for Christmas and knew quite a bit about each other. He knew she had a girlfriend named Allura who she was thinking of proposing to soon and about her sickly brother. She knew about Shiro and Adam and Jaxton, of course, but she also knew that his brother was trying to adopt.

"So?"

"Me and my brother and Adam and maybe a few others are going to the Castle of Lions at about seven tomorrow night if you want to join?" he asked, feeling his face heat up. "To celebrate all the legal stuff with Jaxton being done with."

Romelle was vibrating where she stood. Keith was sure that if they weren't in the middle of a funeral she would have been bouncing around. "I'd love to!" she whispered, trying to hide her excitement. The priest concluded the service. "Just a second. I'll signal for you."

Knowing the routine, Keith stepped back and kept a careful eye on her as she dismissed people to meet at the reception back at the church. As people wandered back to their cars, Regris stepped up beside him. He was a whole head and a half taller than Keith, which was just a little ridiculous. Most of the guys who worked at the cemetery towered over him. Keith wasn't short, either! These guys were just ridiculously tall and all teased him about being so short.

Did Keith want to invite them? They were all nice enough, sure, and asked after his kid from time to time. But...

Maybe some other time.

Romelle signaled for him to lower the casket. He turned to the truck hiding behind the trees a few rows over and waved for Kolivan to go ahead and come over with the vault. He and Regris made quick, efficient work, taking out the boards and the skirt around the lowering device. It wasn't long before the casket, gold and shiny and a waste of fucking money, was lowering. Kolivan and Regris brought over the vault top just as the casket settled on the base. Once the straps were rolled back onto the lowering device and it was rolled away, Regris and Kolivan dropped the vault over the casket. Kolivan had already brought over the gator filled with dirt and a shovel.

The family was crying, and Keith had to look away as tears prickled behind his eyes. Before, he had never understood the people who cried at funerals. What was there to be sad about, anyway? The dead wouldn't come back just because you cried.

But when Acxa...

Her funeral was the hardest he had ever cried. He hadn't even cried as much at his dad's funeral, feeling only empty and numb and angry. But for Acxa, he had sat through the service stony-faced and silent. It was only when he had sat and watched the crematory after the service as the time counted down and the temperature rose that he let his emotions out. Romelle had let him sit in front of it the entire three hours that it took to cremate her and he took that opportunity to sob uncontrollably, top button undone and tie askew and hair wild as he clutched at the strands. She had sat with him the entire time, handing him a Kleenex and bottle of water when he could control himself enough to use them. She let him watch her use a long metal _thing_ to bring Acxa's charred remains up, closer under the stream of fire, moving it around so it would break down easier, even though she wasn't supposed to let him watch. He didn't bother to dry his cheeks since they would just re-wet within a moment.

But it had felt cathartic, watching her body break down in the flames. It was real; she was dead and she wasn't coming back.

Maybe tears weren't so bad at funerals, he thought.

"You okay?" Romelle asked softly, hand light on his elbow.

Keith drew in a shaky breath. "Yeah. It still hurts, yanno? But... But I think I'll be okay."

She smiled at him, waiting until he calmed down before speaking again. The family took turns taking a shovelful of dirt and dumping it over the hard plastic vault, and they watched quietly as one son, sniffling, went several times.

"So. The Castle of Lions at seven tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Shiro thinks I need a break. And to celebrate."

"Good for you," she said sincerely. "You work way too hard. I'll buy you a drink."

Keith let out a small laugh. "I told Shiro that the only way I was going was if he bought all my drinks."

"Smart man," she laughed, punching his arm jokingly. "Allura is going out with a friend, anyway, so I need something even more fun to do."

Keith just shook his head and fondly rolled his eyes. Their relationship was weird and one Keith didn't quite understand, but it made Romelle happy so he couldn't quite argue. It mostly made him laugh how competitive the two could be.

"Glad I'm second-best," he teased.

"Everyone is second-best to Allura," Romelle replied, voice soft. "I'm going to propose by Christmas."

"Isn't that what you said _last_ Christmas?"

"This time, for sure!" She moved to talk to the family wandering away, done with shoveling and forcing the son to head back to his car.

Keith got it. He did. He understood what the guy was going through. That need to see things finished, to make sure she was _really_ dead, that she wasn't coming back. He clenched his hands, feeling the gloves tighten with his fists.

Yeah, maybe the weekend _would_ do him some good, he thought as he headed towards the hole. But for now, he had a job to complete.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're fidgetier than usual, my dear Pidgeon," said Lance as they settled at their usual table at the Castle of Lions. It was two tables put together, enough to sit ten or so people. They had just gotten there from Sal's Diner and had just gotten their drinks. Lance's was a fruity monstrosity with alcohol-soaked fruits and a tiny umbrella and he took a generous sip as he eyed his tiny friend. She kept looking around the bar, all silvery and blue and teal and sort of futuristic looking but also very classy, as if looking for someone, rolling her Mike's Hard between her hands. Hunk, Shay, and Allura sat across from them with their own drinks looking a little too innocent as they scanned the bar. "Wait a second." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you trying to be my _wingman_?"

The others flinched at his loud exclamation. Pidge hunched her shoulders.

_Guilty._

"Okay, maybe," she grumbled, much to everyone's shock. "I asked my brother's best friend to bring his brother," she added in a mutter, a light blush dusting her cheeks. "I've been trying to get you guys to meet for a while, but, you know..."

Lance looked at his other companions. Hunk, Shay, and Allura looked between each other, then back to Lance and Pidge across the table. Lance shrugged back with a confused frown.

"You said you wanted a date," Pidge muttered even quieter, just for Lance to hear. She still refused to look at him, staring intently at the bottle between her hands. "So I figured, since I knew someone else was also looking for a date..."

And that was the thing, wasn't it? Pidge could be such a little gremlin and usually was, but she could also be endearingly sweet when it concerned her friends. It was painfully cute how embarrassed she was about it, too. And teasing her about it would just make her even more defensive and angry, which he didn't want to do. Not when she was being so sweet, for once.

So, instead of teasing her, Lance smiled and ruffled her hair. "Thanks, Pidgey."

She swatted his hand away. Then her eyes brightened and she shot up to wave her arms. "Shiro!" she called out. "Over here!"

A very large, very well built man strode over with a grin and a drink in hand. "Pidge! Fancy seeing you here," he said loudly and very tellingly.

So the plan had been to pretend they just _happened_ to be in the bar at the same time. Lance chuckled and shook his head fondly at them. "I already know the plan, Shiro. Pidgey here isn't very subtle."

"I am, too!"

"Subtle as a two-by-four to the head," Lance replied.

"Romelle?" asked Allura as more people trailed behind Shiro. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Romelle peered out from behind Shiro, a bright pink drink in hand. "I thought you were going out with friends?"

Allura raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked around the table.

"So which is the guy you wanted me to meet?" Lance asked loudly, determined to get Pidge to blush again. "Since your orchestrated this and all."

Ah. There it was. Her face was bright red and she crossed her arms to pout. It had to have been either the tall man in glasses, or the other guy who had his dark hair half up in a ponytail. Honestly, Lance was hoping for the ponytail. He was cute. Plus, the guy in the glasses had a wedding ring.

Pidge huffed, but stepped around Lance to pull out the guy with the ponytail from behind Shiro. _Yes_. "Lance, this is Keith. Keith, this is Lance. You two have a _lot_ in common."

The hell was _that_ supposed to mean?

Luckily, Pidge seemed to notice their shared confused looks. She added with a smirk, "You're both here celebrating being single dads. Different ways of becoming single dads, but still both celebrating it."

Lance nearly dislocated half his body turning back to Keith. "You have a kid, too?!"

Keith merely blinked at him for a solid five seconds before responding. "Too?"

"Pidge said we're both single dads." He made haste to pull out his phone and quickly open his photos. Sure, maybe he had had to upgrade his storage just to take more pictures of Estella—sue him. His baby deserved to have entirely too many pictures taken of her cute antics. It was a _crime_ not to document every moment. He patted the empty seat beside him, urging Keith to sit. "Look! Her name is Estella," he gushed, showing Keith the picture from last night. She was all cuddled in her bed, surrounded by her stuffed animals with a book in her lap. She was frowning down at the book, flipping through the pages as she tried to read it herself. The soft glow of her lamp made it all the sweeter, softer, a fairytale moment suspended in time. "She just turned three last month."

Eyes wide, Keith sat and leaned closer to Lance's phone to see the picture better. His beer clunked on the table as he fished out his own phone. The others from his party settled down at the other half of the table; Lance could see them watching from the corner of his eye, but he was too invested in what Keith had to say about his daughter.

"She's cute," Keith murmured with a tiny smile. He showed Lance his lock screen. There was a baby, maybe just under a year old, giggling and smooshing their face against the cheek of a grinning Keith. The baby's cheeks were just so _round_ and _squishable_. "His name's Jaxton. He'll be one in November."

"Oh my _goodness_," Lance crowed, dropping his phone so he could hold his face in his hands. The kid was just so adorable. And looked just like his dad. "He's _adorable_. Did you go through divorce, too?"

"Divorce?" Keith pulled his phone away to give Lance a confused look. "Too?"

"Yeah." Lance took a sip of his tasty concoction and replied easily, "I just finalized my divorce last week." He had no shame in his divorce—not anymore, not after all the shit she had put him through. And people usually gave him a judging look until he explained the situation. It hurt, to automatically be judged and have to justify himself, but their sheepish, guilty looks made it all worthwhile.

Keith, however, was giving him a weird look. One that kind of screamed that he was judging Lance, but also... not quite. He even opened his mouth to say something, then shut it and frowned, as if unsure how to continue.

Before he could say anything, Lance bulldozed right over. There was _no way_ this cute guy was going to judge him for the situation. "She's in prison for child abuse and neglect and endangerment," he said with a wry smile and a wave of his hand. "I was working all the time, so I trusted her to take care of Estella. Then I came home one day when Estella was about a year old to her strung out and Estella locked in a closet covered in bruises."

"Holy shit." Keith's eyes were wide. "How the fuck could someone do that to a _baby_?"

Lance shrugged. "My ex-wife, apparently."

Keith shook his head before taking a long draw of his beer. "No divorce for me. Jaxton is actually my sister's kid. She—" His breath hitched, fist clenching around the beer bottle. Shiro had moved to reach across the table as if to comfort him, but Keith pulled away. "Uh, she died, back in February. And, uh, his dad is in prison. So. Yeah."

"Holy crow." It was Lance's turn to take a large gulp of his fruity drink. His heart ached for Keith. How fucking awful. He couldn't even imagine one of his siblings being dead, let alone suddenly having to take care of their kids. "We make quite the pair, apparently. Heh. A-_pair_-ently. A-_parent_-ly."

"Oh my _god_, Lance, no," whined Pidge.

"Oh my _god_, Lance, _yes_," he mocked right back.

But Keith was laughing, so score for him! Lance swore he heard Keith say, "Cute," but it could have been his imagination. The others around them groaned at his lame puns, but he was a _dad_. It was his _duty_. The others would vehemently disagree, but whatever. That wasn't important.

What was important was that they all seemed to try to give him and Keith a little bit of privacy.

They were _all_ in on it. The jackasses.

"So..." Lance cleared his throat and downed another gulp to fortify himself. "Pidge is playing wingman."

"What?"

The confused frown was just too cute. "Yeah. Pidge orchestrated this. I made the mistake of saying I wanted to date again to her face, and... yeah..." Lance hated how warm his face felt, but it was unfair to Keith that he was the only one who didn't know.

"Oh." Keith's cheeks were pink as he took a sip of his beer and wouldn't meet Lance's gaze. "Oh. Yeah, I made that mistake, too. That's—You like men, too?"

"I'm bi, yeah."

"Super gay, myself."

Lance snorted into his drink, nearly spilling it all over himself as he cackled. Pidge slapped his back as he choked on his laughter. Keith had a cute, confused little smile, but also seemed pleased as well. Oh, man. Lance's heart was already tripping all over the place for the dork.

"You okay?" Hunk asked, raising an amused eyebrow at him.

"Peachy. Speaking of!" He lifted his almost empty glass and turned towards the bar where Coran was laughing at him. "Bartender!" he called out, ignoring the annoyed looks from the other patrons. "Bring me another!"

Coran only laughed harder. "Just a moment, Lance."

Satisfied, he turned back to his tablemates with a grin. "Allura, I love your dad."

"They both, unfortunately, love you too," she grumbled into her palm as she tried to hide the fact that she knew him. _Rude_. Romelle rubbed her back while trying to hide a grin.

Ignoring her, Lance turned back to Keith. "So how do you know Pidgey?"

"Oh. Uh." Keith fiddled with the label on his bottle. "I, uh, her brother is best friends with my brother, so I've known her since I was ten."

"You poor thing—_ow_!" Lance glared at Pidge and rubbed his side where she had elbowed him. "Do you want me to charm this man or not?"

"You? Charming?" Allura snorted into her drink.

"No! Stop picking on Lancey-Lance!"

"Stop talking in third person," Pidge snarked back.

Keith chuckled beside him. It made his chest warm. He knew he was a little much, and alcohol didn't help matters any, but he really wanted Keith to like him. Lance shoved a hand in Pidge's face to make her stop and turned back to Keith.

Before he could say anything, however, Keith asked, "How do you know Pidge?"

"Oh, she and Hunk, the big teddy bear over there, that's his wife, Shay, went to college together and she kinda assimilated into our friend group that way." He drained the last of his drink and pushed it towards Pidge to set at the end of the table. "Kinda weird that our friends seem to know each other and we're just now meeting."

"Yeah..." Keith looked back at his beer bottle, almost looking guilty. "I'm not a fan of going out a lot. We're just celebrating all the legal stuff with Jaxton being done with."

"That's cool." Lance bit his lip, wishing he had another drink to focus on. A familiar foot caught his under the table and he shot Hunk a thankful grin. It helped calm him, knowing Hunk was there to comfort and ground him while he stumbled his way through flirting. Hunk smiled back before turning his attention back to Shay and Pidge. "My mama says I don't know any strangers," he said with a laugh. "Too much of a social butterfly, yanno?"

A drink was set down in front of him. "Ah, Coran, Coran, the gorgeous man!" he crowed, lifting an arm to pat his shoulder. He craned his head to look at him upside down. "You're a good man!"

Coran chuckled at him and twirled his marvelous mustache. "Thank you, my boy. Enjoying yourself?"

"Of course!"

Coran patted his head. "Good boy. Let me know if you need anything."

Lance blew him a kiss, which Coran caught with a grin and placed upon his cheek before turning to the others to see if they needed refills. Lance turned his attention back to Keith who was just smiling at him. "What?"

"You're cute," Keith said, cheeks turning slightly pink as he curled into himself. "Uhm. If that's okay to say."

"More than okay." Lance shot him finger guns, then cringed. What was he _doing_?! Oh, man, Keith was going to think he was _weird_, or—

But it only made Keith laugh. Not _at_ him, Lance didn't think. Not in a mean way. More like he thought it was... endearing. Or cute. Hopefully. Lance hoped so, anyway. Lance took a huge gulp of his wonderfully, perfectly fruity drink to settle his nerves. Oh, boy. This guy was just too adorable.

"Uhm. So." Keith took a quick, deep drink of his beer and grimaced as he set it down a little too heavily. "Uhm. I guess we're both looking for a date? If Pidge was trying to set us up?"

Lance swallowed, hoping that he appeared confident with his grin. "I mean, I certainly wouldn't be opposed."

"It doesn't, uh, weird you out that I have a kid?"

"I mean, I have a kid, too?" Lance replied, kind of confused.

"I know." Keith shrugged, looking back at his beer. "It's just—every guy I've tried to get a date with lately just... stops talking to me as soon as they find out about Jaxton. So..."

Lance leaned forward a little—maybe a little too close, if Keith's wide-eyed stare was anything to go by. "I'm game," he tried to say as sincerely as possible. "I love kids—I have a big family, and I always wanted more than one kid, yanno?"

Had he said something wrong? Keith was leaning back away from Lance, eyes wider than ever and looking a little freaked out. Lance moved back out of his space, eyeing him as he took another sip of his drink. Keith's hand was clenching and unclenching in his lap and his other hand spasmed around the bottle.

"That's, uh, a little quick, don't you think?" Keith's voice was raspy and a little thin.

Trying to recall his words, Lance frowned and sat back further in his chair. "Huh? I—" Oh. Yeah, his words could probably be taken that way, huh? "I didn't mean! You were worried about me being weirded out about your kid. Sorry. I—" A foot connected solidly with his shin. "Ow! Hunk!" He glared at his 'best friend' and rubbed at the sore spot.

"You were freaking out," was all Hunk said, unapologetically. "Sorry." He didn't _sound_ very sorry, the _asshole_.

The foot was back, rubbing against the back of his calf in apology. "Fine, thanks," Lance grumbled. He turned back to Keith. "I wasn't trying to—you know. I was just trying to tell you that I'm fine with you having a kid. As long as you're okay with _me_ having a kid."

"I—uh—yeah," Keith stammered. He paused to thank Coran setting another bottle in front of him.

"Oh. My. God," groaned Pidge. "This is so painful. Just exchange numbers and agree to go on a lunch date tomorrow."

Lance turned to Pidge, hoping his eyes screamed _unamused_ at her. "Does that mean you're willing to babysit both Estella and Jaxton?"

"We can watch Jaxton," Shiro said with a grin, nudging his husband, who Lance hadn't caught the name of yet.

"And we can watch Estella," Hunk offered. His arm was around Shay and his hand rubbed up and down her arm. "You know, for practice," he added with a grin.

"Practice...?" Lance frowned at the pair, watching the caring caress and the way they both smiled at him in that weird, knowing, secretive way. Wait a second... He _knew_ the two were wanting to start their own little family soon, and Hunk had confessed that Shay had been off birth control for a few months already, and—He squinted at Shay's glass. Usually she got some sort of martini, but it wasn't unheard of that she got a vodka and water instead. Lance had assumed she was just feeling the vodka water tonight, but it could have also just been plain water. He narrowed his eyes at his best friend. "How long?"

"We found out this afternoon," Shay replied, grin growing larger by the second.

As dramatically as he could, he slapped his hands on the table and stood, letting his chair skitter back at the sudden action. "You're _pregnant_?!"

"Lance—" Allura tried to shush him, but he continued his dramatics.

"And you didn't _tell me_?! _As soon as you found out_?!"

"You were at work, and we didn't want to distract you—"

"What about at dinner, then!"

"Lance, sit down," Pidge hissed, pulling at his sleeve.

"I cannot believe you didn't tell me!" he wailed, collapsing in his chair as soon as he had pulled it back into position. He threw a hand over his forehead, as if swooning. "_Me_! Your best friend! I should have been the _first_ to know!" He suddenly sat back up, glaring. "You better not have told your parents before me."

Hunk, the utter _asshole_, laughed. "Nah, we'll call them tomorrow. We had to tell you, first."

Lance perked right back up. "Good man," he said before turning back to Coran at the bar. "Bartender!" he shouted, much to his table's annoyance. He thrived off their annoyed groans. "We need celebratory Skittle shots! Shay's having a _baby_!"

Coran, the good man, let out a cheerful "_Hey!_" and lifted up a bottle.

Lance settled back down, grinning. The entire bar was staring at him, which, whatever. He needed to celebrate! There was just so much to celebrate tonight! The others at his table were looking at him in various degrees of annoyance. Except, curiously, Keith. He had a goofy, confused little smile as he watched Lance's theatrics.

"Are you always like this?"

"All the time," Pidge grumbled from his other side into her drink. "I thought introducing him to someone he would want to impress would make him behave, but I guess I was mistaken."

"_Pffffft_." Lance raised his glass and his chin to try to look haughty. "I'm always extra, and you'd do well to remember that, Pidgey."

"How are you this drunk already on a drink and a half?" Pidge groaned.

"I asked Coran to make them extra strong."

"Of course you did."

"_And_—" he stressed, taking a sip to prove his point. "I'm only _tipsy_."

He eyed Keith out of the corner of his eye. He looked a little confused, but also a little fond, too. Hmm. Better than irritated, certainly. Maybe Keith passed his little test; if he couldn't deal with Lance's theatrics this early, then how would they ever work out? Being theatrical was a good 87% of his personality. Okay, maybe more like 63% and Estella made up the rest of his personality.

Whatever.

Point was, Keith didn't look mad or irritated and it was _doing_ things to Lance, okay? But he wanted things to work out, and he didn't want to go too fast, and Keith seemed like a good guy so far. Had to be, if Pidge vouched for him and wanted _Lance_ of all people to date him.

So, he turned back to Keith and sipped on his drink, keeping eye contact as he tried to think of what to say next. Keith shifted in his seat and after a moment looked away with a slight blush.

The guy was just too damn cute.

Lance unlocked his phone and pushed it towards Keith. "Put in your number?"

Startled, Keith looked back up at him with wide eyes. "Really?"

"I think it's been established that we're both kinda into each other and looking for a date." Lance grinned, hoping his words didn't sound condescending. "Plus, if Pidge worked this hard to get us together, I'm sure she has her reasons. I'd really like to take you out to lunch tomorrow, if that's okay."

"I... Yeah, yeah, I think I'd like that."

Their tablemates cheered around them, startling them. Lance had actually forgotten that they were there. Oops. Oh well. He felt his face warm when Pidge congratulated him for not fubbing it up too badly.

"You guys are making it _weird_."

"_Excuse me_. You were being really awkward. It was painful. I demand to be compensated."

Coran came, then, with shots for everybody. He placed the yellow one in front of Shay, telling her it was just plain lemonade so she could participate, too. Coran even had a shot for himself, and they all clinked their colorful shot glasses together with a cheer before downing the sugary drinks. Keith coughed next to him as he set down his little glass.

"Little stronger than you thought?"

"Yeah." He coughed again, laughing a little. "Been a while since I had a shot."

"Kids make it a little hard to go party," Lance agreed as he unlocked his phone again. He nudged it closer to Keith. "C'mon, man. Number, please."

Keith huffed a tiny laugh as he put in his number. Once done, Lance took it back and quickly texted him with a little heart after his name. Keith Kogane, the contact read.

Cute.

"So!" he said, punctuating his exclamation with a long sip. "Tell me about yourself."

"Uh..." Keith took a hesitant sip of his beer. "I... work at the cemetery?"

"Huh. That sounds interesting." Well, Lance tried to make it sounds like he was interested, anyway. He never could understand how people could work in such a creepy place. "But aren't you scared of ghosts?"

Keith huffed a little laugh into his beer. "There's no such thing."

"I'll have you know that ghosts are _very_ real! I saw one before," he boasted, brandishing his drink as he continued his tale. "At my abuela's house, even! They had to get an exorcist and everything! _I_ thought he was nice, but my mama didn't think so."

Keith laughed a little more. "Sure it wasn't just your imaginary friend?"

"I was, like, twelve."

Keith was biting his lower lip to keep from smiling. _Cute. Cute cute cute_. "Sure. But I'm not afraid of ghosts. I just dig the graves and fill 'em and mow the lawn and trim the trees and stuff. I'm never there after dark."

Lance eyed his arms, trying to see if there was muscle under the cropped jacket. Which. Okay. Was a little weird, but looked good on him. And the guy even wore fingerless leather gloves. And black skinny jeans and a really tight black t-shirt that didn't do a whole lot to hide the muscles on his chest, and—ah, shit. Lance took another drink to try to quench his thirst. He wanted a relationship, he chanted to himself. He didn't want to jump the guy's bones—or, rather, boner—

Okay. Maybe he did. Sue him. The guy was pretty, and Lance would not mind Keith topping him. Plus, it had been _way_ too long since he had last had sex. What, like, two and a half years or something?

Okay. Uh. Change of subject. Right.

"I work at The Juniberry," Lance said quickly, trying to tamp down his... _impure_ thoughts. "The spa, you know? Allura is my boss. I do a lot with the skin care and stuff and mostly work in the store part, but I also help Allura with managing the place."

"That's cool." Keith sounded sincere, at least. He brushed his fingers against Lance's hand and Lance just about _died_ at the contact. Keith's fingers were so pale, next to his. And rough with callouses. Goosebumps covered his arm at the thought of those hands running all over him, pressing— "Your skin is really soft."

"Y-Yeah. We—We get discounts on everything." Okay, Keith needed to stop being so cute and hot and—Lance pulled his hand away, gulping and trying to control himself. His friends _probably_ wouldn't appreciate him jumping Keith right then and there, and Coran _definitely_ would not appreciate him taking Keith to the bathroom for a quickie. "Okay, uh..."

"Oh. S-Sorry." Keith curled into himself a little, and Lance _hated_ it, hated that he had made Keith self-conscious about his actions. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no!" Lance snatched at Keith's hand, lacing their fingers together. Keith's palm was hot and scorching against his. "I'm sorry. It's just. I'm just getting a little _hot and bothered_, okay? It's—It's been a little while since..."

"Yeah, same..."

Lance's lips quirked up in a smile. "Two and a half years?"

Keith stared back at him, blinking quickly before he chuckled. "Yeah, okay, you win." The hand in his tightened its grip. "I don't think I'd be opposed, but not tonight. I'm taking advantage of a kid-free house for the night and sleeping in."

"Dios, same here."

"Do you speak Spanish?" Keith asked, eyes lighting up, interestingly enough.

"Oh, yeah," he replied, suddenly feeling shy. "My family immigrated to the US from Cuba when I was, like, five."

"Yeah?" Keith grinned at that. "Shiro's family immigrated to the US from Japan a few years before he was born. So we learned Japanese for them."

"That's cool." But, he was confused. Wasn't Keith supposed to be his brother? Why was he saying that like they weren't? "Uh, but I thought Shiro was your brother...? That's what Pidge said."

Keith nonchalantly shrugged as he took a sip of his beer, eyeing Lance from the corner of his eye. His hand tightened around Lance's before he said, "Well, yeah. Shiro's family adopted me and my sister when we were ten."

There was something odd in the way he said it, like he was expecting a certain answer from Lance. Lance wanted to apologize, wanted to—he wasn't sure, exactly, but... Something in Keith's posture made the apology still on his tongue. "Huh," he said instead, tightening his grip for a moment in reassurance. "That's cool. I know you said your sister died," he continued quieter, squeezing his hand in sympathy. He knew from Allura's experience with her mother that she got sick of people telling her sorry all the damn time since sorry wouldn't bring her back. Hopefully the hand squeeze would come across as comforting rather than pity. "And Shiro is your brother. Do you have other siblings?"

Keith squeezed his hand back, a thankful smile touching his lips as he seemed to relax. His eyes were almost purple under the lights, Lance noticed, almost mesmerized by them. "Nah, just Adam," he replied, nodding towards the man Lance never got the name of. "He's Shiro's husband. But it's just us and mom and dad and Jaxton."

"Your family is so tiny," Lance gushed, grinning when Keith rolled his eyes. "No! I'm serious! I've got four siblings and two of them are married with kids and you have no _idea_ how many aunts and uncles and cousins I have. It's _insane_."

"Christmas must be a nightmare," Keith replied wryly.

"No, no," Lance laughed, downing the rest of his drink. "It's totally fun. Lots of yelling and noise and chaos."

"Totally selling me."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hunk lean forward to rest his head on his hands and smile at them goofily. The others were watching them, too. Heat rushed to his face, something like mortification settling in his chest.

"What the _fuck_, guys?"

"No, no," said Hunk, smiling that stupid proud smile at them. "Continue being cute."

"You guys are assholes," Lance bit out, pouting at his friends' laughter. Instead of responding to them, he turned back to the bar, lifting his empty glass, and shouted, "Bartender! Another!" and settled in to get to know Keith a little better.


End file.
